Ice Water
by Pyrus Japonica
Summary: Gerald's FBI. Helga's CIA. When Phoebe goes MIA, will the agents be able to find her in time? Or at least get Arnold an acronym? Part 2 in the Elements Series, see Hot Air for Part 1.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer:  Hey Arnold.  Not mine.  But I like it anyway.

Ice Water

By Pyrus Japonica

Prologue

_One year after the end of Hot Air_

_Hillside__City___

_Colic-Hyerdahl Laboratory_

            Phoebe was working late again.  Or possibly working early, depending on how you categorized being at work at three in the morning.  Hot Air had proven to be even more difficult to crack than she had thought, and she had spent much of the year here in her lab, shut off from the rest of the world, working on her project.  It was an obsession to her, one that she could not keep away from, and she wasn't quite sure what she would do when it was finally finished.

            Though that day was a long way off.  It was only now, after an entire year that she was able to see just a tiny piece of the huge puzzle that was the antidote.  Unlocking the secrets of the actual solution of Hot Air was easy enough, but to combat it…she shook the doubts from her mind.  She would do this.  She had to.

            A noise from outside her door startled her.  She turned but there was nothing there.  _You've been in here too long, Pheebs old girl, your mind is playing tricks on you.  But she made no move to leave.  Instead, squinting in the near total darkness of her lab, she carefully, carefully, added just a drop of acid to the mixture she was concocting.  Nothing happened.  She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding._

            "Saving the world, Ms. Hyerdahl?"

            She started again and looked towards the sound.  Her partner, Dr. Edward Colic, was standing in the doorway.  She smiled slightly at him and he did the same to her.  They hadn't dated in almost a year now, but he was still allowed to tease her about her work ethic.

            "That's _Doctor Hyerdahl to you.  And not quite yet."_

            He moved quickly towards her, making her draw a quick breath of surprise.  Then he stopped and looked at her very strangely, as if he had never really seen her before and was trying to memorize her face.

            "But you're close, aren't you Phoebe?"  He picked up a few sheets with experiment results on them before she could stop him.  Glancing through them, he nodded to himself.

            "Of course you're close.  No one else could have gotten this far in so short a time.  You're a genius, after all."

            Somehow, Phoebe did not feel that this was a complement.  Her gut was telling her something was wrong here, and as she looked around her familiar lab it seemed to turn into a haven for sinister-looking shadows before her eyes.  _Stop it Phoebe, it's just Edward after all.  Your partner, remember?_

            "Perhaps…perhaps you'd better go now, Dr. Colic." she told him as firmly as she could, trying to calm her stomach, which was twisting itself into knots.

            "Edward." he corrected without looking at her.

            "Edward.  Well, I was just about to leave…I just need to clean up a few things so if you'd like to wait outside…"  It was all she could think of to say.

            "I don't think so Phoebe."  He looked up at her briefly, all the smile gone from his eyes.  Phoebe froze.  She'd never seen him look like that before.  Her eyes swept the room quickly, looking for possible exits.  He watched her and let out a low laugh, then neatened the pile of papers in his hands.  Still looking at her, he ripped them in half.

            Now Phoebe was looking for a weapon.  But Edward ignored her for the moment, focusing instead on her work table.  With a sweep of his arm, glass test tubes, beakers and air-tight containers crashed to the floor.  She gritted her teeth.  A month's worth of work, at least.  Gone.  He looked back to her and smiled again, a different kind of smile that made shivers run down her spine.

            "Sorry about that.  Have to have a bit of a mess, you know.  You should see my lab, it's even worse."  And he tipped her computer onto the floor.  A few sparks shot out of the power supply, making Phoebe cringe involuntarily.

            Edward wrenched a leg from the bottom of the work table.  "These are nice, these detachable legs.  Very convenient." he told her as he used it to smash in a few of the cages on the walls.

            He was blocking the door.  Phoebe looked behind her to see if she could maybe escape out a window, but they were on the fifth floor.  Even if she survived a jump, she'd hardly be in shape to run.  Her heart started to race.  Was there anyone else left in the building?  She opened her mouth to scream, but Edward was there before she could draw a breath, holding something against her mouth and nose.

            She fought briefly against an overwhelming smell that seemed to envelop her, then her eyes stopped taking orders from her brain, and shut tight.  And the world evaporated.

A/N: Well guys, here's the start.  Be prepared for quite a ride on this one, even I'm not all that sure about how a few twists will turn out.  I'm not promising anything.  ~PJ


	2. On Agents and Arguements

Chapter 1

On Agents and Arguments

            Officer Crichton almost choked on his doughnut.  Was that VW Bug really going 40-over the limit right past his obviously-positioned squad car?  He glanced at his partner who shrugged back.  Shaking his head, he put down his breakfast, switched on his siren and lights and went after it.

            At first he thought maybe the Bug hadn't seen him.  Then he wondered if the driver was deaf.  After almost a mile of trying to get the vehicle to pull over, however, his partner finally got on the radio.

            "Control?  We've got a runner!"

            Backup arrived a few minutes later, but even with the combined efforts of three squad cars, the Bug always seemed to slip through.  Crichton wasn't about to start some kind of dangerous maneuver to cut this guy off – this was too good a driver who apparently had no respect for the law.  So he ordered the others to fall back and the three of them resigned themselves to following this wacko to wherever he was going.

            They didn't have long to wait.  Soon, the Bug pulled into a parking lot and was quickly surrounded by Crichton's team.  Crichton himself was steaming by this point.  He yanked open the driver-side door and proceeded to "Miranda the living daylights", as he put it, out of the driver.  He punctuated his recitation with considerable language (despite realizing about half-way through that he was speaking to a lady) and ended by thrusting his badge in her face with one hand while waving cuffs in the other.

            Helga politely waited for him to finish.  Then she showed him _her _badge.

*******************

            Helga burst through the double doors of Conference Room A.

            "You're late."

            "The local authorities leave something to be desired."  She fell into a chair next to a good-looking black man who grinned at her.

            "You look terrible." he informed her.

            She scowled at him.  "Good thing you love me anyway."

            "Now when did I say that?"

            "Last night, the day before that, two days before that, every day last week—"

            "Doesn't mean I meant it.  I don't know if I can be with a girl who can't out-dress me."

            Helga looked at Gerald.  In his newest jet black suit, he was practically gleaming next to her.  Helga had just thrown on whatever clothes were lying on her floor that morning.

            "Gerald, if you're waiting for a girl who can out-dress you, I suggest you start scouting out guys, 'cause it's never gonna happen.  Besides, it's worse than usual today.  I at least care enough about my best friend to not want to spend hours getting ready for work."

            "And yet I still got here before you.  Sorry babe, there's never a good reason to look bad."  But at the mention of Phoebe, a flicker of concern went over his face.  They were both avoiding the subject and they knew it.

            But they had to face it sometime.  At that moment, the doors opened again to admit two remarkably dissimilar people -- Moria and Simon, Helga and Gerald's superiors, respectively.  Simon's eye tic was acting up.  Moria just looked ticked.  Helga sat up straighter.

            "Well?  Where is she?" she demanded.

            Moria answered by cursing and walked to the side of the room to pour herself a glass of water before sitting down.  Simon shook his head.

            "No leads."  He tossed a folder on the table.  "That's all we know, right there."  Gerald picked it up.  It was depressingly light.

            "Ok, basic run-down.  Dr. Hyerdahl stayed late at work last night – nothing unusual there – then this morning when the cleaning crew came in at 5:30, the place was trashed.  There's photos in there." he indicated the folder Gerald was flipping through.

            "Police arrived at 5:47, they checked the place for intruders, the works and found nothing but smashed equipment.  Most of the damage was focused on Dr. Hyerdahl's and Dr. Colic's personal labs and their offices.  They sent a squad over to both of their apartments.  When they saw the same thing had happened there, someone finally called us.  No one has seen or heard from either doctor since last night.  I'd say it's pretty safe to assume someone found them."  Simon sat down across the table from the agents.

            "Them?" Helga was confused, "Why would someone want to mess up Dr. Colic's work as well?"

            "Apparently whoever did this didn't know who was doing what.  Probably grunts just told to destroy the place.  There's even a possibility that this attack isn't connected with Hot Air at all.  Someone with a grudge against the lab possibly."

            "The hell you say."  Helga didn't seem to think this was a possibility.

            "Seriously.  I said everything was destroyed.  That's true.  All the Hot Air antidote information that Dr. Hyerdahl was working on, all the samples of Hot Air – all burned, torn to shreds or otherwise contaminated.  But not any more so than the rest of her projects or Dr. Colic's for that matter.  Nothing was taken."

            "_Phoebe was taken."_

            Simon looked a bit uncomfortable.  "Well we can't be entirely certain about that.  This partner of hers – Colic – she dated him for a while, right?"

            Gerald raised an eyebrow.  "You think she went and eloped or something?  _Phoebe?"_

            "It is a poss—"

            "You don't know Phoebe." Helga interjected, "There's no way."

            "She'd never do something that impulsive.  The girl doesn't dream at night without planning it out carefully at least three days in advance." added Gerald.

            Now Helga was looking through the folder.  "If this is all we have, then I suggest we start by questioning the clean-up crew.  Then we need to figure out the last person she talked to and grill her for clues.  Oh, and we should probably—"

            "Someone needs to do those things yes."

            "Someone?" Helga paused and looked at Simon.  When he looked away she focused on Moria, who was looking even less happy than before.

            "You're out, Pataki." she said bluntly.

            "What do you mean, 'out'?  Phoebe's my best friend, I know her better than anyone else and I—"

            "You're right.  You know her.  And you knew what she was working on.  Guess how many people did?"

            Helga was silent.

            "The four of us.  That's it.  No one else had any idea where Hot Air was located.  No one."

            No one said anything for a minute.  Simon's eye twitched.

            "You think there's a leak." Gerald said.  It was not a question.

            "We don't know what happened.  But your doctor is probably lying in a ditch somewhere because of it, along with any progress towards an antidote."

            "I wouldn't," Helga growled, "Sell out my best friend."

            "You know that.  I know it.  The board doesn't.  So they're taking precautions, that's all.  Simon and I have new," she grimaced, "'Assistants', taking an extra interest in everything we do.  And you're out."

            "But if we're not involved, they'll have to risk telling someone else what's going on." protested Gerald.

            "They thought of that.  So they decided to compromise.  I said Pataki was out.  I didn't say you were, Johansson."

            "What?!"  Helga stood up and looked ready to take Moria down at any second.  "Why does Gerald get the case, and not me?"

            "They had to pick one of you.  When it came down to it, Gerald had less black marks on his record."

            "Barely."

            "Regardless, those are the facts.  You're in," Moria looked at Gerald, "But you're out." she told Helga.

            For a moment they all thought Helga was going to explode.  Then she closed her eyes and shook her head.  "No.  He can't do it by himself.  He needs a partner, Moria."

            "He has one."  Simon looked distinctly uncomfortable now, and Moria pursed her lips and folded her arms across her chest.

            Gerald blinked.  "You're putting me with a new partner?  But Helga and I have always worked well together—"

            Moria snorted.  "Too well.  Don't think it's an accident that you two were voted both Best and Craziest Agents at the Christmas party.  I still get jitters thinking about that Boca Raton incident."

            "Who is it?" Helga wanted to know.

            "Her name – sit down, please Ms. Pataki – her name is Veronica, she—"

            "Wait."  Gerald held up a hand.  "Veronica?  Please tell me you don't mean your secretary.  Veronica 'He's-Not-In-This-Week' Veronica?"

            Simon bristled slightly.  "I assure you that she is a fully qualified agent who just—"

            "Absolutely not." Helga said flatly.

            "Look, I have this new assistant they assigned me and Veronica has nothing to do.  Besides, she knows enough from dealing with me all the time that I won't have as much to bring her up to date on.  And I trust her, which is more.  She's been through agent training."

            "Then why isn't she an agent?" Gerald challenged.

            "She ah…well she had some artistic differences with—"

            "She doesn't like guns." said Moria.

            "You're kidding."

            "Not to mention she's dumber than dirt."

            "Please tell me this is a sick joke."

            "Sorry Johansson, that's how it is.  You start tomorrow." Simon told him.

            "And you," Moria said to Helga, "Are going to bury yourself under a mountain of paperwork until we get this thing straightened out.  I want to see you in your office every day at 8am, and I want you to stay there until five.  Then I want you to go home, read a book, watch a little TV and go to bed.  Every night.  Don't go anywhere, don't do anything.  Got that?"

            Helga didn't say anything.  She just got up and stalked out of the room, double doors slamming behind her.

****************

            They were still cleaning up the Colic-Hyerdahl Laboratory that evening in Hillside.  The windows had been boarded up and police tape was all around the area, but there was still glass and debris being swept up outside.  There wasn't much to look at, but a couple of bystanders hung around anyway just in case.  Among them was a blonde-haired man in his early twenties, holding a bag of groceries and unable to tear his green eyes from the building.

            A teenager standing next to him yawned.  "Man, I was hoping there'd be dead bodies at _least_." he said to his friend.  They shrugged at each other and left the man wondering what could be worse than dead bodies.  Eventually he turned and walked down the street towards a run-down boarding house.

            Arnold wasn't sure what to think.  He had left a message on Phoebe's machine as soon as he heard about the lab, but that had been this morning and she hadn't called back.  Still, he supposed that she could just be overwhelmed right now.  Having your place of work be attacked would do that to you.  And like the kid said, there were no "dead bodies" which he figured was a good thing.  But why would anyone want to trash a lab?

            It made no sense to him, but he was pretty sure Phoebe would know what it was about.  For a long time now it had seemed to him that she wasn't telling him something, something fairly important.  Which was another reason he wanted her to call him back.  It was about time he got some answers.  If she was in trouble, well, they could handle that.  But he couldn't help her if he didn't know what was wrong.

            As he finished this thought, Arnold was just walking past the last bus stop before the boarding house.  He paused.  Maybe he should just cut across town now, not wait for her to call him back.  He could…he could say that he was walking home from getting groceries for dinner – well, he was – and he just wondered if she'd like to join them.  Then he could be sure she was ok, without being too nosy.  

            He could hear the bus coming up from behind him.  New strategy in mind, he turned and shifted his bag to get at any change in his jacket pocket.  He was counting the few coins he had found when the bus stopped in front of him.

            "Thank you so much sir, I just don't know what I would have done – I can't thank you enough." came a sweet, lilting voice.

            It couldn't be.  He was just imagining things.  The stress about Phoebe was getting to him.  He didn't dare look up.

            "Don't mention it Miss," a gruff voice answered, "Just take care of yourself now.  And your boy there."

            "We'll be fine, won't we Aaron?  Wave bye-bye to the nice bus driver."

            She wasn't here.  She couldn't be here.  But that voice…and those feet coming down the bus stairs…and that dress…that wide-eyed face…

            She saw him.  A deep breath.  "Hello Arnold."

            Arnold couldn't speak.  He couldn't breathe.  All he could do was choke out her name.

            "Lila."

A/N:  Don't kill me, I swear Lila has a purpose.  :)  And I promise that I'll answer all reviews next time, I just wanted to get this posted.  ~PJ


	3. On Helga and Lesser Specimens of the Fem...

(short) Chapter 2

On Helga and Lesser Specimens of the Female Species

The bus belched smoke and rumbled away, leaving two people with no idea what to say to each other.

            Toddlers rarely have this problem.

            "Who you?" came the demand from the boy in Lila's arms.

            "I…Arnold." said the man of that name, then realizing that would mean nothing to the boy added, "I guess…I'm your uncle.  Uncle Arnold."  He looked back at Lila and promptly lost his voice again.  "Uncle Arnold" sounded strange to him.  But he liked it.

            Lila raised an eyebrow at him.  "Uncle?"  Apparently she didn't.

            "Well not really.  Arnie wasn't my brother, but I thought it would be—"

            "No," she shook her head and smiled a little.  "He can call you his uncle.  I just…wasn't sure you would want him to, that's all."

            Arnold just looked at her.  "He's your son," he said, simply.

            Lila's cheeks tinged, but Arnold kept her from having to reply.  "Look," Aaron was beginning to squirm in his mother's arms, "I don't know what your plans are but—I mean, if you don't have…well, I was just heading home…"  _I can call Phoebe later._

            She glanced down the street.  "Is the boarding house still open?"

            "Yeah.  I still live there.  Take care of it more than Grandpa, nowadays.  You're welcome to come in for dinner.  Grandma still cooks though."  He was rambling, but at least he was completing sentences.

            "Is there a room available?"

            Arnold remembered he was holding groceries just in time to keep himself from dropping them.  He also, barely, kept from shouting "Hell yeah!"  Instead he sucked in some much needed air and looked at Lila.

            "Short or…or long term?"

            Lila looked back at him steadily.  "That depends."

            He made himself nod, then jerked his head towards the old house, beginning to walk towards it as he did so. 

            "I think we can work something out."

            Lila smiled, shifted Aaron slightly, and followed.

***********************************

            Helga was sitting at her desk, trying very hard to give the impression that she was Very Displeased and anyone who interrupted her solitude would be Very Sorry.  So far it appeared to be working – no one, not even the muffin cart lady or that annoying mail boy -- had come anywhere near her all morning.  Or afternoon, for that matter.  As a matter of fact, it was now fast approaching five o'clock, and Helga hadn't spoken to a soul since her meeting that morning.

            Not that this bothered Helga greatly.  First of all, there were only two people she wanted to talk to at the moment.  One was missing and the other was presumably getting ready to go look for the missing person.  Second, even if one of them had shown up to talk, she was relatively certain that her office was bugged, so she wouldn't be able to tell them anything worth saying.  Last, and probably most important, she was working on a plan.

            Not for one moment had Helga considered actually following orders and staying at the office while Gerald went looking for Phoebe with some floozy.  She fully intended to find Phoebe herself, breaking every Agency rule in the book if necessary.  The real question was how she was going to manage this without being terminated.  Or worse, fired.

            She knew she was going to have to fool the Agency somehow – not the easiest task in the world, but doable.  Obviously someone here had already, and recently.  It was the recently part that worried her, as it meant that security was going to be even more prevalent than usual.  For example, it had taken her an entire 30 seconds to crack into the mainframe with root privileges this time.  (She had found that Agency super-high-tech security systems were more an encouraged myth than the reality when it came down to it, especially when she was coming from the inside.  Of course, the fact that she knew Carl the sysadmin used pet names for all of his passwords helped.)

            Step one was to figure out just who and what she was going to have to fool, and hence the hacking into her internal records.  Just a few more clicks and…_there we go.  _Helga scanned the file impatiently, looking for any names associated with hers.  _Moria, Simon, Gerald – no kidding…Brian, nope he's in __Columbia__…Jeff is in some jail…Anita's dead…that's no help.  Come on, give me something here.  Someone has to be assigned to tail me…wait what's this?_

            Carl had apparently picked up a few tricks lately.  An entire page of information was covered in what looked like random letters and numbers.  This was going to take longer than she thought.  She copied the file to her Palm and threw in it her purse for later.  Then she backed out of the system, careful to erase any stray log files she might had triggered on the way.  Crappy security or not, it never paid to get cocky around the CIA.

            She had just started up a game of solitaire to while away her last five minutes of work when she sensed him behind her.  She half-smiled.

            "Wondered when you'd finally show up." she said without turning.

            Gerald raised an eyebrow at her back.  "I figured I'd give you enough time to get into whatever trouble you're planning."

            A full smile now, and she turned to face him.  "I don't know what you're talking about.  I've been sitting here all day."

            "Which is exactly what worries me.  Any time you're not running off on some wild scheme, it means you're plotting some wild scheme.  And this time I won't be there to watch your back."  He frowned.

            "If I were you I'd be more worried about your wild scheme, or maybe the fact that you probably don't have one yet.  Not to mention what I'll do to you if you hook up with Miss Fashion-Sense on the way."

            Gerald rolled his eyes.  "Please.  I'd prefer a girl with a brain."

            "Seen her in a tight top lately?  She's got two."

            He smiled at that one, then looked seriously at Helga.  "Promise me something."

            "What's that?"

            "Don't try to find her."  He didn't need to say who.  "Wait until the agency clears you, then you can get a partner and come after me."

            She looked at him for a long time.  Then she took a deep breath and nodded slowly.  "Ok.  But I'll give you a month, that's it.  If you're not back by then I'm coming after you, and to hell with no contact rules, got it?"

            "I wouldn't ask for more."  Gerald nodded and left.

            Helga watched him walk down the hallway all the way to the corner.  She knew that this would be the last time she'd see him for a while, maybe ever.  And she knew they were being watched, he couldn't, she _knew _he couldn't give her a sign, a wink, a smile, something.  But she watched all the same.  Because if there was a leak in the Agency, then the plan they had just silently decided on had to work.  It _had _to, because Gerald was now the bait.

            He turned the corner, and was out of sight.

A/N:  Well guys, I came back to this story and suddenly realized that I needed another setup chapter.  Oops.  So next time I get around to updating this, expect something a lot longer…and I'll start answering reviews again.  In case there are any newbies reading this, you might benefit from reading Hot Air first.  Or, you might throw rotten tomatoes at me, one or the other.  ~PJ


	4. On Farms and Tall Women

Chapter 3

**On Farms and Tall Women**

**  
**

The problem with very tall girls, reflected Gerald, was that when they talked to you, their chest was at eye-level.

He was finding this to be a particular difficulty right now since Veronica was droning on about something he vaguely thought had to do with a modern artist who was touring currently, and there wasn't much else at the airport to look at. Plus, he missed Helga. Already.

They were waiting on their flight to Hillside. Well, actually, they were waiting on their second connecting flight to the biggest city near Hillside, where there was hopefully a rental car they could drive the rest of the way. Gerald was already regretting not simply taking his Mustang the whole way. At least then he could drown Veronica out with the radio.

"At least, that's what I think. What about you, Ger?"

Gerald gritted his teeth at this new nickname and did his best to answer. "Uh, well I really haven't seen them yet so…" He knew as soon as he said it that it was the wrong thing to say.

Veronica was staring at him. "You haven't seen my new shoes?"

Oh. "Uh…"

"Try looking down. You know, past my chest."

Crap. "Sorry." He glanced at her heels. "Yes, very nice."

Veronica tossed her hair. "For someone supposedly in a relationship…"

"I said I was sorry." The last thing he needed was for rumors to start. He hated to think what Helga might do to him if she heard he was watching buxom brunettes instead of looking for Phoebe.

Phoebe. Somehow it still hadn't quite sunk in what had happened to her. He could almost bring himself to believe that he was heading off for a casual visit to Hillside – catch a flick with Arnold, maybe grab lunch with Phoebe later. Or dinner. Except that the last time he'd talked to Phoebe they'd all but said that dinner wasn't really an option for them. Not anymore.

Veronica was looking at him again. "Uh, what?"

"I said we can probably make it to Hillville—"

"Hillside."

"Whatever. We'll probably get there by tomorrow morning. And Ger?"

"Yeah?"

"My eyes are up here."

"Right. Sorry."

* * *

Arnold woke up.

At least, he thought he was awake. He was not at all sure that he wasn't still dreaming, however, because the first thing that ran through his head was that Lila needed breakfast.

When the truth hit him a moment later he grinned and leapt out of bed, narrowly missing the ceiling with his head as he did so.

She was here.

The thought flooded his mind with a golden warmth as he hastily pulled on some pants and tried his best to flatten his hair against his head. His stomach growled. Food. Food for Lila. And Lila's son. Grandma couldn't be trusted, she had tried to feed them both watermelon and stewed socks last night until he intervened.

Giving up his hair as a hopeless case, he threw himself out the door the down the stairs towards the kitchen. Where he came to a screeching halt.

"Pancakes, Arnold?"

Lila was already there. And, from the looks of things, she had been up for quite some time. She had on an apron over her dress and had tied her hair up in a perfect knot on her head. And she was cooking breakfast. Arnold looked around the kitchen. Lots of breakfast.

"You made hashbrowns?" He blinked at her.

"And bacon. And muffins. And eggs. I wasn't sure what kind everyone liked so I just made a few of everything – scrambled, over-easy, bene-"

"Lila, it's 7:30. How long have you been up?"

"Oh, hours. I'm used to getting up before the sun, Arnold. There's – well, usually there's chores to do."

This boggled Arnold's mind. "Before…the sun…?"

She laughed at him. "Sit down, eat some of this mountain of food I've made, before the other boarders get here and take it all."

While still shocked at the idea of getting up before the sun, eating before the boarders got there made sense to Arnold. He grabbed a plate and sat down.

Aaron was already at the table, playing with bits of eggs and bacon and occasionally putting them in his mouth, as well as his ears and up his nose whenever he thought Lila wasn't looking.

Arnold wasn't really hungry, but he piled his plate high just the same, stealing glances at Lila whenever he got a chance. After a few minutes she came and sat beside Aaron.

"Eat your food sweetie." she cooed at him. She seemed to be avoiding Arnold's eyes on purpose.

"So, Lila," Arnold tried to eat a bite of scrambled eggs but found his throat was far too dry. He choked it down with a swig of orange juice while Lila waited patiently. "What are your…plans? I mean, are you back in the city for—"

"I don't – I don't know. Yet." She took a deep breath and turned to face him, simultaneously picking a piece of egg out of Aaron's hair. "You know they're foreclosing on the farm?"

Arnold didn't know. "No, I…I'm so sorry, Lila."

She nodded absently. "In two weeks. I thought I could handle it on my own, but there were some debts I didn't know about, and I couldn't afford the extra help I needed…" She trailed off, then gave a very un-Lila like smirk. "Oh, I could probably have stretched it out a little longer if I rented out the house, maybe took in a few boarded animals in the barn – but the end would be the same. It's just too big for one person to handle."

"Could you maybe sell off part of it?"

"I thought about that. But I'd have to live off a farm so small I'd be scraping it together just to feed my boy every month. It's not fair to him. I had to come back."

Arnold played with his bacon. "So what are you going to do?"

She shrugged and turned away. He thought maybe her eyes were a bit shinier than normal.

"You can stay here. As long as you like. Until Aaron is old enough to help with the farm if you want. Or until you get a job here. Or even to just get away from everything for a while. What I'm saying is—" he got up and put a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him.

"You always have a place here. With me." He could hear his heart pounding.

The doorbell rang. Arnold heard it as if it was coming from a million miles away. Reluctantly he pulled his eyes away, squeezed her shoulder and went to answer the door.

His first thought when he opened the door was that guys really shouldn't be blamed for eye-level chests. But his second thought wiped the other clear out of his mind.

"Gerald?" he gasped, "What are you doing here?"

His best friend grinned at him tiredly from beside the very-tall-and-busty-woman. "Looking for a friend."

A/N: Thought I'd write a bit more on this, as I haven't in far too long. No promises, but I'm thinking of putting out about a chapter a week or so. PJ


	5. On Pain and Bliss

Chapter 4

On Pain and Bliss

She was in the woods. Not at the park, there wasn't enough sunshine for that. Some strange forest she'd never been in before, and she was 97 percent certain that she was lost as well. Dead leaves crunched under her feet and she shivered in the cold breeze. Where was her jacket?

A noise up ahead. She hid behind a gray tree trunk and listened hard, trying to make out the voices of what sounded like two men. She risked a peek around to see if she knew them, but all she could make out in the growing mist was hooded, tall figures.

"Who did they send?"

That voice was so close she jumped and clapped a hand over her own mouth to keep from screaming. It was so dark she still couldn't see anything.

"You were right, they sent him. She's staying behind, supposedly. Who knows how long that'll last."

It occurred to her that this was actually a female voice. It was cold and she didn't like the tone it had at all. There was a pause. The tree trunk had become very hard, pressed up against her face.

"Watch. If she makes a move, take her. I can handle him if he makes it this far on his own."

Someone grabbed her shoulder. A sharp shooting pain in her arm. She tried to scream but her hand was still clamped on her mouth, so tightly it was hurting her, she was hurting—a swirl of colors, and her eyes opened.

"Wake up. Now."

Phoebe sucked in air and tried to get control of her mind. She blinked slowly while she took in her surroundings. She was lying on a cold stone floor in what looked like a basement somewhere. She strained to think of how long she had been here and failed. How long had she been out? There was a gag in her mouth, she realized, and her hands were tied. It was very cold. Probably even more so, she suddenly discovered, as she was naked.

She gasped and tried to cover herself. A harsh laugh came from above her.

"Oh we've all seen it, little girl. Maybe some of us tried it too, who knows? You've been out a long time."

She felt herself redden as a chorus of male laughter reached her ears. She could make out various human shapes in the shadows around her. _Ignore them Phoebe, just think! Where am I? What happened? _She couldn't seem to remember anything since the lab…maybe a truck? A plane? How long had she really been unconscious?

"Up."

One of the thugs was standing over her. He grabbed her arm and pulled her up to a sitting position, then let go. Phoebe was relieved to find a wall behind her that she could lean on, rather than slamming back to the ground. She managed to curl herself up into a moderately modest pose, all things considered.

"How is she?"

Surprised at hearing a female voice, Phoebe forced herself to look up at her captors. An impossibly snake-like woman stood in front of her, talking to the man who had pulled her up. Her long black hair flowed past her waist…or at least, where Phoebe supposed her waist must be. She was having difficulty focusing on the woman, as if she was a single black line in front of her, or rather, a shadow of a line. The only detail that really stood out was the ornate silver handle of a black knife, fastened to the woman's outfit somehow. It appeared to portray some kind of twisted, devil face screaming in pain.

The man grunted. "She'll live."

The woman didn't bother to look at Phoebe. "Fine. Get her out of this scum. The East Wing will do." She turned to go.

Phoebe barely had time to wonder if she would eventually be fed before the man's hand closed over her mouth, and she slipped into unconsciousness again.

* * *

Gerald was having a hard time.

It wasn't that he minded Lila. It wasn't even that he minded Veronica, much. What he didn't like was the two of them together.

Directly after Arnold had opened his door to find Gerald on his doorstep, Lila had appeared over his shoulder. Gerald really didn't want to elaborate on what was going on with Lila there, so he had asked Veronica to run interference. Unfortunatly, she seemed to be having trouble grasping the fact that this meant keeping Lila _away_ from Arnold.

So far, the terrible duo had taken a tour of the boarding house (directed by Arnold), gone over old yearbooks and photos (which Arnold narrated), examined the painting collection (with Arnold) and were currently exchanging recipes and planning what to cook for lunch (for Arnold). Frustrated, Gerald had slipped up to the roof to quickly check in with Simon, but had had to leave a message with the new "secretary", who had seemed very suspicious and didn't believe that Gerald was using his real name. He groaned and closed his phone.

"Rough day?"

Arnold had apparently come to look for him. Gerald rolled his eyes and responded, "Getting worse all the time."

"Anything I can do?"

"Are the girls with you?" He tried to look past the door in the roof into Arnold's room.

"Naw, they had to go shopping. Guess Grandma doesn't keep the kind of fresh vegetables a guy like me needs." Arnold grinned and rubbed his belly. "I could get used to this."

Gerald sat down and patted the cement next to him. "Have a seat. So what's going on with you and Lila?"

Arnold got a dreamy look on his face. "Nothing really. Well, not yet anyway."

"She's got a kid, ya know. You ready for that?"

"No problem." Gerald believed it. Arnold probably would have been ready for kids in fifth grade.

"Just don't start planning the wedding yet, man. I don't know that she's decided anything and you don't want to push her."

"I know. Don't worry about me. But you didn't come all the way here to talk about my love life. What's up?"

Gerald sighed. He wasn't looking forward to this. "When was the last time you talked to Phoebe?"

* * *

"...and that's about it. I haven't seen or heard from Gerald since, just following orders. So basically he's off having all the fun while I get to sit around doing paperwork."

Helga was sitting in her living room with her curtains open, sipping tea and talking to an older woman on the couch next to her. So far she had been able to find three different people outside clearly watching her apartment, and she was reasonably certain that there were at least three more out of sight. It was as if her department didn't trust her or something, despite the fact that Helga had been dutifully going through the motions ever since Gerald left. She hadn't been one bit of trouble, but then that was probably why they were so worried. _And with good reason, _she thought. Helga had no intention of continuing this charade for long.

"You know Helga, most people would be glad to be out of danger for once." A slight smile played on the lips of her companion as she sipped her own tea (Camomile, she wasn't as partial to Earl Gray as Helga was) and brushed a cropped black-and-gray streaked hair out of her eyes.

Helga glared at her. "Right, Bliss. You've known me for how long now?"

The doctor/old friend put her hand to her head and heaved a dramatic sigh. "Oh, longer than I care to admit. And I can't say we've made much progress either."

Helga took offense at that. "Oh I see. So I'm still a maladjusted little girl who can't handle her stupid family, has a crazy crush on someone who barely knows I exist, and solves all her problems with a mix of violence and badly conceived plans, am I?"

"Of course not."

Helga narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"You are now," continued Dr. Bliss, "A maladjusted young woman who avoids her family at all costs, has multiple doomed relationships and solves all her problems with a mix of violence, sarcasm and I'm afraid still badly conceived plans." She couldn't suppress a slight chuckle.

Helga folded her arms and leaned back in her chair. "I'm so glad you find that amusing."

"Oh calm down. When you get to my age you will learn that most things in life are better when laughed at. The truth is that I think you've grown a lot, especially in the past few years. And I am very encouraged by your current relationship. Even if it doesn't last--"

"Doesn't--hey!"

"I said 'if'. And even if it doesn't, I think you've learned at lot from it, and that is very important for your future relationships."

"So now you're planning my next few? Get out of my house." Helga said this half-heartedly though, and Dr. Bliss did not appear to be concerned.

"Once again, I said 'if'. Don't you think you're reacting a bit much for a simple statement like that?"

Before Helga could answer, Bliss's watch emitted a tiny beep. "Looks like we're done for the night. Do you want to continue these extra sessions this week?"

Helga glanced out the window. She could see four of them now, they were getting careless. "Yeah, can we do tomorrow? And maybe the next day too?"

"That's a lot of sessions in a row. Are you sure you can afford me?" Dr. Bliss's eyes twinkled. "Speaking of which, how would you like to pay for tonight?"

"Let me get my checkbook." Helga got up and started rummaging through a drawer in the kitchen. It had been difficult talking to Dr. Bliss without violating any security rules. She'd been able to say that Gerald was off on a mission and that she was forced to stay behind, but she couldn't say why or that Phoebe was involved. Usually she wouldn't worry about it, but she was about 97 sure that the office was listening to every word she said. They weren't taking any chances. It was all she could do to be able to have this "private" session at all.

"Here you go. See you tomorrow?" Helga handed Dr. Bliss her check and gave her a hug goodbye.

"I can do that. Goodnight, Helga."

Dr. Bliss left the apartment and breathed in the cool night air. Helga had acted as if they were being both watched and listened to, and although she didn't see anyone herself, she knew enough to trust the girl's instincts. She walked as calmly as possible to the taxi waiting for her.

Driving to her hotel, Dr. Bliss reflected on the evening. She had been seeing Helga fairly regularly now for about a year and a half, ever since Helga had moved to New Jersey. Apperently Helga felt that she needed some personal guidance on a month to month basis, and the support offered by the CIA just didn't cut it in her book. So, about once a month Dr. Bliss got on a private plane, flew across the country, spent an hour talking and then flew home. She wouldn't have done it for any other patient, but Helga was always special. Besides, Helga always insisted on paying her extra, even beyound the transportation costs.

The understanding, however, was always that at some point, Helga might need a favor, and Dr. Bliss might be the only one who could pull it off. So when Helga had called this time offering to pay for a hotel room and some extra sessions, she knew that something was up. The only problem was, with everyone listening in, how was she supposed to know what Helga needed?

Dr. Bliss sighed and looked out the rear window. There were no cars behind them, and she felt herself relax some. At least they were used to her enough that they didn't follow her back anymore. She wondered how much Helga had decided to pay her and took out the check.

Ah. Dr. Bliss felt herslef tense up again.

Well, she wouldn't be cashing this one.

* * *

A/N: Yes, believe it or not I'm still working on this, just really really slowly. :) More to come. 


	6. On What Friends Are For

Chapter 5

On What Friends Are For

"Arnold, just come back, ok? I'm not done, there's more to it than that."

Gerald had hardly gotten out the word "kidnapped" before Arnold was half-way back down the ladder. He paused for a second and looked back at Gerald, but his face was full of anger.

"I don't care about the details, and you probably can't tell me the half of it anyway. I saw the lab earlier, there's police all over it. I can't get ahold of Phoebe, and you just said she's been kidnapped--"

"I said we _think _she _might _have been kidnapped."

"Whatever. Seems pretty clear to me." He started down again but stopped himself. "Might be? What other explanations are you looking at here?"

"Well..." it seemed even crazier to say aloud, to Arnold, than it had when he had first heard it. "She was dating that doctor guy--"

"Was. Hasn't been for a while now."

"Well, he's gone too. So, you know..." Arnold just looked at him. Gerald nodded. "Yeah, you're right. I know, you're right. It's just odd is all."

"Tell me about it in my room. Why the hell didn't you say this when you first came in?" He slid down the ladder and Gerald had to follow. Arnold was still ranting. "I'm messing around with lunch – lunch! -- and one of my best friends is tied up in a hole somewhere, scared and, and I don't even know what she's there for...maybe she doesn't..." He grabbed a ratty duffel bag out of his closet and started throwing clothes into it. "She was working on something she couldn't tell me about. It was for you, wasn't it?" he shot over his shoulder.

Gerald felt the blow full on. He made himself answer. "Yes. For the agency."

Arnold snorted. "The agency. She did it for you. For you and probably Helga as well. It's how it's always been. She gets dragged into your crazy plans and when things go bad, it's never you that ends up--"

"Ends up what? How about forced from the partner I love and actually work well with – who is, by the way probably the only person who could actually find Phoebe – stuck with some idiot girl who cares more about shoes than my friend while I watch my job go down the drain, all the while knowing that this whole thing is all my fault?"

Arnold zipped the bag shut. "I'm sorry." He didn't let Gerald interject. "I'm sorry your precious career is more important to you than Phoebe's life." He picked up the bag and put his hand on the doorknob. Gerald watched him tighten his grip around it for a second, then relax. When he looked up, the anger was gone.

"That wasn't fair of me, I know. I don't know the whole story. I'm sure she knew...knew what she was getting into. And I know you have rules. I just..." he put up his hands and shook his head.

"Yeah, me too." Gerald said in a relieved tone.

"It's _Phoebe_."

"I know."

Arnold stood there for a long second, then let his bag slip to the floor. He went and sat down on the bed.

"So tell me what else you know."

*****************

She knew who it was before she saw his face. Even with her lips as cracked as they were she managed to say his name. "Colic."

The man finished entering the room and shut the door behind him. He seemed unsurprised at Phoebe's recognition. "I asked you to call me Edward, I believe." But no smile appeared with the sentence.

Phoebe tried to shift so she could see him better. She was clothed now, at least, in some rough cotton pants and shirt that almost fit her, but her hands were now cuffed behind her. She had woken up this time on a mattress, alone in a small room with no lamp, though a window on one wall gave a good amount of natural light. She tried not to look out the window though – it was large enough for a person to fit through, but was located directly above a huge gorge with a river at the bottom. Clearly no one would survive going out that way. It made her dizzy just looking at it.

She pushed her back against the wall and used the leverage to sit up better, shaking her hair out of her eyes as she did so. Edward just stood and watched, his arms folded, until she had finished moving. She was thirsty, but didn't want to ask for a drink. So she just watched him back.

After a moment, he laughed. "Aren't you in the least bit curious about why you're here?"

"I assumed it has to do with what I was working on."

"And what was that, exactly?"

Phoebe didn't say anything, although she was sure Colic already knew. Why else would she be here? Indeed he didn't seem to expect her to answer, instead opening the door behind him again and bringing in what looked like a room service cart. She could smell breakfast – oatmeal and bacon, one of her favorites – and see water and even green tea on it. She did everything she could to keep from drooling. _When did I eat last?_

Edward saw her discomfort however. He raised an eyebrow at her. "Do you remember that one conference we went to together? I ordered you this very meal for breakfast." She remembered. She was having a hard time connecting that sweet man she had dated with the one towering over her now, though.

Without warning he was at her side. She stiffened and almost screamed, then realized that he was undoing her handcuffs. His hair smelled clean and familiar, and she had to force herself to remember that he was the reason those cuffs were there in the first place. Finished with the handcuffs, he paused and looked straight into her eyes. _What is he doing? _She made herself not look away, even when he brought a hand up and lightly touched her cheek.

Abruptly, he stood. Without saying anything else, he gestured towards the food, then left, closing the door again behind him. She heard the lock click.

_What was that? _She wasn't sure. Why feed her? Why keep her alive? Why was she even here?

Her mind was too tired for this. For now, she would just accept what she did know. There was one well worn wooden chair in the corner of the room. She dragged it over to the cart, and sat down to eat.

******************

A/N: Ok, so I'm on an update schedule of once every few years. Least it happens eventually...

I'm busy working on a "real" novel right now, but I've found that the less I do writing exercises like fan fiction, the less I do actual writing as well. So I've been blogging more, using Twitter more, and possibly doing this a little more too. I may finish it yet, who knows? --PJ


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